Post by Amelia Kirby on Sept 18, 2005 0:32:55 GMT -5
This is all the poems I've written, and I've put them together and called it The Café (like poetry cafés). I'm going to post them all here for the sake of saving room. ^.^
In The Meadow
I'm sitting on a rock, right above the meadow
I'm watching him run in the grass below
He's carefree, he's safe in a world all his own
He's happy; he's free, in a life so neatly sewn
His hooves hit the ground, heavy yet light
He's running so fast that he's out of my sight
A stallion so black the night skies are jealous
To him, in his world, nothing is perilous
He's running so fast that he's just a blur
His steps are so light that nothing can stir
His beauty is staggering, his muscles strong
He's the head of his herd, so nothing can go wrong
I could stay here forever; I swear that I could
But since he's so happy, I don't think I should
Don't want to disturb him
Want to stay under the hood
Notice Me
Whenever I try to talk to you,
you run.
Whenever I look at you,
you turn away.
Is there something about me
you don’t like?
Or is it just that you don’t notice me?
Is it coincidence that whenever I walk into a room
you leave?
Is it chance that when I speak,
you shut up?
Do you dislike me?
Or is it because you don’t that you do these things?
Are you afraid
to get to know me better?
Do you even know I’m here?
What can I do
to get you to notice
that I am here?
I want your attention,
but you so cruelly deny it from me.
Is there a reason?
Do you just not understand?
I wish you would notice me a bit more,
but there is nothing I can do,
is there?
You just don’t notice me.
At all.
Dreamer
I am a dreamer
Trapped in the clouds
above my head.
I am always thinking,
what if, when, and why.
I cannot stop myself from dreaming,
but sometimes, I wish I could.
It gets me in trouble, sometimes,
my dreaming.
My fantasizing, it keeps me away
from the things I need to do.
The places I need to go.
The people I need to see.
But my dreaming gives me hope.
Dreams.
It gives me strength;
the power to never give up.
And that is a quality that keeps us alive,
keeps us going.
So next time anyone says, “Get your head out of the clouds
and pay attention!”
I’ll listen.
But when I’m alone
I’ll dream.
I’ll dream of things that fly,
things that dream along with me.
I’ll dream that I can fly,
far away from the non-dreamers.
Away from the people who make me be practical.
I’d rather have true hope,
than a false shade of it.
I’d rather think of what could be
than of what can't.
I’d rather believe in something
than believe in nothing at all.
I’d rather dream than tell other people not to.
Because that’s what I am.
A dreamer.
Lost One (Part One)
Plunging into eternal darkness,
I struggle to discern what I am lacking.
I look around me and notice the starkness
of the lies and love into which I am hacking.
Friendships fail and first love dies
but with little faith, no hope for me lies.
I walk down a road with a weight on my shoulders
and listen as all the happiness smolders.
Although I know all is not so bleak,
it seems as though these threads are weak.
Loved ones are gone and friends have vanished.
All the love I once held has completely been banished.
But lo and behold, a stranger stands
in curious darkness, in further lands.
I reach out to touch, but nothing is there.
My fingers grope and grasp nothing but air.
And yet, and still, there it is,
that curious shape in the mysterious mist.
And what can I do but continue to follow
a hope that fills that little hollow?
When I finally reach my goal I know
that the enveloping depression will begin to slow
and hope and faith and all that is missing
will fill up my soul and become unceasing.
Lost One (Part Two)
Darkness swells and no one is here.
I sit alone and quell my fear.
Loneliness buzzes and laments in my head,
a silly fear that everyone’s dead.
The lights are off, there is no sound
and in the silence I feel my head pound.
Once, I enjoyed a moment like this
and now my breath leaves me with a hiss.
The world surrounds me, my problems grow;
the answers to my confusion, I suddenly don’t know.
I feel as if there is no solution
and this depression is my retribution.
I’ve dug a hole in which I can’t get out
and not a thing nearby can kill my doubt.
My eyes go blind, my head goes blank
and the smell of this desperation is rank.
It surrounds my head and fills my nose
and shows my mistakes, laid out in neat rows.
It reminds me of my faults, my memory it haunts
and with its cruel face, my feelings it taunts.
I feel as though I’ll never leave
this horrible black that’s started to reeve
through the hole in my mind and my soul and my heart.
And to escape the feeling, I don’t know where to start.
Love
It pulls up in front of you
in the middle of an endless race.
And when it does, it blocks out all view
but the one of its beautiful face.
It smiles endearingly and wiggles its nose
and you can’t help but laugh.
And then it hands you and beautiful rose
and takes you by the hand.
It drags you through a wasteland
lifting for you your burdening skirts,
and when you think you just can’t stand
and every part of you hurts,
it swoops down to your rescue
and helps you up once more,
pulling you towards the venue
that confiscates all war.
Your battles are all finished
and you think you’ve won them all –
but then it lets go of your hand
and you begin to fall.
As you look up to the heavens
and as you pray that you won’t die,
you see its horrible grin and then
what can you do but cry?
Because something you so trusted,
something long forgot,
has led you along a path of doom
and left you there to rot.
And as it turns away
with a terrible laugh of mirth,
a stranger takes you out of harm’s way
and smiles at you, and at first,
you wonder what new devil
has now begun what seems
a new routine of torture
sown from fiery devils’ seeds.
But you open your eyes and see,
looking down at you and bright,
a wonderful face of great beauty
and a smile that lifts the night.
And as this stranger takes a hold
of your limp and forlorn hand,
a new bright light of hope is restored,
in your desecrated heartland.
And once you’ve found a good stronghold
you stand on your own again,
and you walk off into the sunset
fighting battles until you win.
In The Meadow
I'm sitting on a rock, right above the meadow
I'm watching him run in the grass below
He's carefree, he's safe in a world all his own
He's happy; he's free, in a life so neatly sewn
His hooves hit the ground, heavy yet light
He's running so fast that he's out of my sight
A stallion so black the night skies are jealous
To him, in his world, nothing is perilous
He's running so fast that he's just a blur
His steps are so light that nothing can stir
His beauty is staggering, his muscles strong
He's the head of his herd, so nothing can go wrong
I could stay here forever; I swear that I could
But since he's so happy, I don't think I should
Don't want to disturb him
Want to stay under the hood
Notice Me
Whenever I try to talk to you,
you run.
Whenever I look at you,
you turn away.
Is there something about me
you don’t like?
Or is it just that you don’t notice me?
Is it coincidence that whenever I walk into a room
you leave?
Is it chance that when I speak,
you shut up?
Do you dislike me?
Or is it because you don’t that you do these things?
Are you afraid
to get to know me better?
Do you even know I’m here?
What can I do
to get you to notice
that I am here?
I want your attention,
but you so cruelly deny it from me.
Is there a reason?
Do you just not understand?
I wish you would notice me a bit more,
but there is nothing I can do,
is there?
You just don’t notice me.
At all.
Dreamer
I am a dreamer
Trapped in the clouds
above my head.
I am always thinking,
what if, when, and why.
I cannot stop myself from dreaming,
but sometimes, I wish I could.
It gets me in trouble, sometimes,
my dreaming.
My fantasizing, it keeps me away
from the things I need to do.
The places I need to go.
The people I need to see.
But my dreaming gives me hope.
Dreams.
It gives me strength;
the power to never give up.
And that is a quality that keeps us alive,
keeps us going.
So next time anyone says, “Get your head out of the clouds
and pay attention!”
I’ll listen.
But when I’m alone
I’ll dream.
I’ll dream of things that fly,
things that dream along with me.
I’ll dream that I can fly,
far away from the non-dreamers.
Away from the people who make me be practical.
I’d rather have true hope,
than a false shade of it.
I’d rather think of what could be
than of what can't.
I’d rather believe in something
than believe in nothing at all.
I’d rather dream than tell other people not to.
Because that’s what I am.
A dreamer.
Lost One (Part One)
Plunging into eternal darkness,
I struggle to discern what I am lacking.
I look around me and notice the starkness
of the lies and love into which I am hacking.
Friendships fail and first love dies
but with little faith, no hope for me lies.
I walk down a road with a weight on my shoulders
and listen as all the happiness smolders.
Although I know all is not so bleak,
it seems as though these threads are weak.
Loved ones are gone and friends have vanished.
All the love I once held has completely been banished.
But lo and behold, a stranger stands
in curious darkness, in further lands.
I reach out to touch, but nothing is there.
My fingers grope and grasp nothing but air.
And yet, and still, there it is,
that curious shape in the mysterious mist.
And what can I do but continue to follow
a hope that fills that little hollow?
When I finally reach my goal I know
that the enveloping depression will begin to slow
and hope and faith and all that is missing
will fill up my soul and become unceasing.
Lost One (Part Two)
Darkness swells and no one is here.
I sit alone and quell my fear.
Loneliness buzzes and laments in my head,
a silly fear that everyone’s dead.
The lights are off, there is no sound
and in the silence I feel my head pound.
Once, I enjoyed a moment like this
and now my breath leaves me with a hiss.
The world surrounds me, my problems grow;
the answers to my confusion, I suddenly don’t know.
I feel as if there is no solution
and this depression is my retribution.
I’ve dug a hole in which I can’t get out
and not a thing nearby can kill my doubt.
My eyes go blind, my head goes blank
and the smell of this desperation is rank.
It surrounds my head and fills my nose
and shows my mistakes, laid out in neat rows.
It reminds me of my faults, my memory it haunts
and with its cruel face, my feelings it taunts.
I feel as though I’ll never leave
this horrible black that’s started to reeve
through the hole in my mind and my soul and my heart.
And to escape the feeling, I don’t know where to start.
Love
It pulls up in front of you
in the middle of an endless race.
And when it does, it blocks out all view
but the one of its beautiful face.
It smiles endearingly and wiggles its nose
and you can’t help but laugh.
And then it hands you and beautiful rose
and takes you by the hand.
It drags you through a wasteland
lifting for you your burdening skirts,
and when you think you just can’t stand
and every part of you hurts,
it swoops down to your rescue
and helps you up once more,
pulling you towards the venue
that confiscates all war.
Your battles are all finished
and you think you’ve won them all –
but then it lets go of your hand
and you begin to fall.
As you look up to the heavens
and as you pray that you won’t die,
you see its horrible grin and then
what can you do but cry?
Because something you so trusted,
something long forgot,
has led you along a path of doom
and left you there to rot.
And as it turns away
with a terrible laugh of mirth,
a stranger takes you out of harm’s way
and smiles at you, and at first,
you wonder what new devil
has now begun what seems
a new routine of torture
sown from fiery devils’ seeds.
But you open your eyes and see,
looking down at you and bright,
a wonderful face of great beauty
and a smile that lifts the night.
And as this stranger takes a hold
of your limp and forlorn hand,
a new bright light of hope is restored,
in your desecrated heartland.
And once you’ve found a good stronghold
you stand on your own again,
and you walk off into the sunset
fighting battles until you win.